The Baking Experience
by Jo the Phoenix
Summary: TCP Yet another bout of insanity: Jubilee in cooking class. I'm a feedback junkie. plz R


"Alright, whad'da we need here

The Baking Experience A Jubilee fic by Jo the Phoenix

DISCLAIMER: The character's except the teacher aren't mine. Is everybody else sick of these disclaimer thingies too?

"Alright, whad'da we need here?" Jubilee looked from the new home-ec teacher to the recipe lying on the counter in front of her. "Margarine," She hesitated while she worked out the math needed to half the recipe. "Ummm, half a cup. Ya know, cooking would be so much easier if there wasn't all this math involved!" Jubilee gibbered on nervously to the stoical, silent teacher. "Did anyone ever tell you that you look like that lady that was in all those movies, you know…. ummm…. Kathy Bates, ya know, like in _Misery_! Would you say "I'm your number one fay-aun"?"

The cooking teacher stared down at the small Asian girl and said only "Sugar."

"Huh?! Oh! Right. Ummm, one cup." Jubilee dumped the sugar into the bowl, then consulted her recipe. "_"Cream together until completely mixed."_ Right. How do I cream this?" She racked her memory of the lectures, but all she could remember was messing around with Paige's ingredient list (editing amounts needed, changing baking powder to baking soda and other interesting "corrections").

Sighing, she thought she really ought to pay more attention in class, even if she never was going to give a care about baking for people. She concentrated on the problem before her for a second, then grabbed a fork and went to work on the lump of cold margarine and sugar in the bottom of the bowl until it was smooth and mixed. "Oww," Jubes moaned, rubbing her arm and looking at the next task in the recipe.

"Flour, baking powder, vanilla and water…." She silently worked the math out in her head and dumped each in with aptly made sound effects. The raspberry she made with her tongue to represent the sound that the water made when it hit the creamed sugar and margarine didn't impress the teacher, who "harumph"ed and pencilled something on her marking sheet. Jubilee decided not to make the brilliant, if a little crude, noise she had planned for the flour.

"Right, now what?" She looked again nervously at the recipe paper, which by now was a little worse for wear. "_"Knead for eight to ten minutes"_. What?! With my hands?" Sighing, she pulled off her rings and dumped the bowl's contents out onto the counter top. Eight to ten minutes later (it seemed to be an eternity to Jubilee, her shoulders were beginning to get sore), the teacher handed her the rolling pin. Jubilee looked from the grey marble utensil to the teacher's head and back to the rolling pin, and thought it would make a splendid blunt instrument. The teacher must have been thinking the same thing, because she casually backed up a few steps and told Jubilee to continue.

"Kay, whatever." And the teen viciously began to roll out the blob of dough on the counter. "How thin?" Then she remembered her recipe, and looked at it. "Quarter of an inch…kay, how's that?" 

"Fine. Here." The teacher handed Jubilee a cutter. 

Jubilee, over her initial nervousness, laughed maniacally. "Alright!! Ha ha ha, dough! You're gonna be sliced and diced!!!" The teacher backed up a few more steps as Jubilee yelled and laughed at the cookie dough while she impaled it with the heart shaped cookie cutter. When the pile of hearts began to pile up beside Jubilee, the teacher placed a cookie sheet next to them. As Jubilee arranged them upside-down on the sheet, she muttered constantly "They're lovely spades, aren't they? The spades, they're lovely." to the teacher, who busied herself with unimportant shuffling of papers.

Twelve minutes later, Jubilee yelped as the timer on the stove buzzed, telling her that her cookies were done. "WOO-HOO!!" She grabbed a pair of oven mitts and pulled the pan out of the oven. As she put them on the cooling rack, she tried to recall an old nursery rhyme, "The queen of hearts, she made some tarts, wait, no, COOKIES! and ummm, I can't remember the rest, so it doesn't matter." 

After they were cool, Jubilee tentatively took a bite. "They ain't Oreos, but they're okay, I guess."

The teacher tasted and was slightly excited: "They're good, Jubilation." That was all she said, but Jubilee was fine with that. With a small impish smile, she wondered when Paige would be baking.


End file.
